


Bravado

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Derek, Bottom Stiles, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Past Abuse, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 16:44:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1435582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something good finally happens to Derek Hale. </p><p>(Spoiler alert: that something is Stiles.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bravado

Derek had thought that their inability to agree on anything would go away once they finally sucked it up and admitted their feelings for each other, but it didn’t. Stiles is still an annoying little shit. An infuriating, ridiculous, mind-blowingly frustrating little shit.

Except now Derek is allowed to kiss him. And they go on dates where they can’t decide what they want for dinner, or which movie to see, or who’s driving. Dates where Stiles insists on getting an extra large popcorn with butter and peanut M&Ms, where they play footsie and their fingers brush each other in the popcorn bag and Stiles grabs Derek’s hand and licks the butter off his fingers obscenely.

Derek hasn’t been with anyone in a long time. Kate absolutely wrecked him; it took him  _years_  to get over her, to feel like he could possibly trust anyone ever again. And then Jennifer happened, and Derek decided that he just wasn’t meant to be with anyone else. He was fucked up and he didn’t want to drag anyone down with him. He hated himself too much for that.

Stiles graduates high school and decides to go to the local college so he can stay close to his dad, even though they all know that he’s smart enough to get in anywhere. Things stay the same—they fight the monster of the week or deal with the latest werewolf drama to hit Beacon Hills, but now Stiles is coming into himself.

He’s able to grow baby amounts of stubble if he doesn’t shave for a few days. Sometimes, he comes to pack meetings with his hair ruffled and his clothing wrinkled, smelling of someone and somewhere else.

And he and Derek fight, like always. They disagree on everything. Stiles is a ridiculous, annoying,  _beautiful_  little shit and one day, Derek finally admits to himself that he’s been in love with the idiot for  _years_. And enough time has passed that Derek has healed enough to acknowledge it.

So they get together, eventually. The two of them are arguing in the loft one night over which plan is the most logical. Scott had left half an hour ago, telling them to work it the fuck out because he was sick of this shit. They’re arguing like immature assholes, jumping over themselves prove the other wrong, Derek’s blood boiling and a frown is etched permanently on his face because how can one person be so infuriating?

Until they’re not. Until Stiles stops mid argument, throws his hands in the air, and just sighs. “I can’t do this anymore, Derek. It was fun at first but now it’s just exhausting. And sad.”

Derek just stands there, gutted. He  _knew_  he would fuck this up eventually. He’s about to kick Stiles out, to tell him never to come back, to pack his shit up and just  _leave_  Beacon Hills forever, when Stiles continues.

“I like you, okay? I’ve liked you for a while. And I know that you’re impossible to read, but I’ve always kind of hoped that you liked me back. I’m tired, Derek. I don’t want to fight anymore. So I’m throwing it out there. And if you want to, we can do something about it. Or you can tell me to leave, and I’ll pretend this never happened.”

So Derek kisses him. He kisses him silly, until Stiles is an absolute wreck. There’s nothing sexual about it. It’s about the emotional contact, the closeness that they’ve both been wanting for so damn long. Stiles stays over that night and they just  _cling_  to each other and Derek cuddles the shit out of him.

Once they’ve both wrapped their heads around everything, it becomes sexual. It progresses to dry humping in the back of Stiles’ Jeep, which leads to clumsy hand jobs. Derek has never been with another guy before. The whole experience is exhilarating. He wants his hands on Stiles’ cock, to feel his flat, lightly muscled chest and the scrape of his baby stubble and the low, distinctly  _male_  groan when he comes all over their stomachs.

Derek hasn’t been with another guy before, but Stiles has.

Derek doesn’t ask questions about it, though, because it makes him feel inadequate. Stiles isn’t fucked up like he is. He’s sure of himself; comfortable in his own skin. He doesn’t have to fake it like Derek does.

Derek thinks about it all the time. It eats away at him. Eventually, Stiles is going to want more, and Derek doesn’t know if he can give it to him.

He knows he’s being ridiculous. Derek has taken poles through his chest and bullets to his vital organs, but none of them have scared him nearly as much as the thought of a dick in his ass. Stiles’ dick in his ass. Stiles, who he knows and loves and  _trusts._

He’s terrified that Stiles is going to ask to fuck him and Derek will have to tell him no, he’s not comfortable doing that, and Stiles won’t want him anymore.

He’s even more terrified that he won’t be able to say no to him. That he’ll lie and pretend he’s okay with it, and Stiles won’t realize that Derek doesn’t actually want it, and everything will be ruined.

***

A month goes by and Stiles is fine with just hand jobs and blowjobs and lots and lots of kissing.

Things change on a Saturday. Stiles has taken to staying over at the loft on Friday nights. They usually watch a terrible movie of Stiles’ choosing and order take out, curled up on the couch.

Derek wakes up first, so he goes to the kitchen to make them proper grilled cheese and bacon. He hears Stiles wake up just when he’s putting the bacon on. He comes into the kitchen, groggy and beautiful, and gives Derek a good morning kiss. 

“I’m going to take a quick shower while you finish that up,” he tells him. Derek doesn’t think much of it.

Stiles gets out of the shower just as Derek is finished setting breakfast on the table. He comes into the kitchen in a pair of his own sweatpants that have taken up permanent residence in Derek’s closet and one of Derek’s sweaters. It makes him smell like  _them_ , and Derek’s wolf preens at that.

After breakfast, Stiles leads him back into the bedroom, undressing them both carefully.

“There’s something new I want to try,” he grins, so comfortable and free. He grinds his erection against Derek’s. “I want you to fuck me. I can’t stop thinking about your cock in my ass. I’ve been fingering myself so much thinking about it.”

It’s not what Derek is expecting to hear  _at all_. This is something he can do, though. He can give this to Stiles. The relief of it all makes him feel so happy that he wants to cry.

He growls, instead, hiking Stiles’ thighs around him and kissing him hard. Stiles’ erection is pressing insistently against his, precome leaking against both of their stomachs. “Please,” he whispers.

Derek doesn’t think he will ever tire of this long expanse of pale skin, all of Stiles’ secret and private moles that only he gets to see.

He kisses down Stiles’ stomach, down past the light treasure trail of hair to his straining cock and just pauses for a moment there, where Stiles’ scent is strongest.  _Mine_ , his wolf growls.

Stiles’ heart rate has picked up. Derek can tell how desperate he is for it, but he’s being so  _good_  for him, so patient and calm. He takes him into his mouth for that. Sucks him down deep, bobbing his head rhythmically while teasing at his balls with his free hand.

It had been a weird adjustment, learning to suck cock. Derek knows what feels good on his own dick. He loves soft, gentle licks to the head of his cock where he’s most sensitive. But Stiles is cut, so that’s different. He seems to like having his balls teased more than anything. And he loves when things got a little rough—when Derek digs his fingernails into his thighs or holds him down.

Stiles hikes his legs up over Derek’s shoulders, spreading himself open and nudging him towards what he  _really_ wants. Derek’s fingers trail lower.

Where he had expected resistance, Stiles is pliant and open and  _wet._

“I kind of took care of things in the shower. So we’re good to go,” Stiles’ body thrums with a nervous energy.

Derek has to pull off of his cock to bite down on Stiles’ thigh because  _holy fuck_.

He can smell the wave of arousal that rolls off of Stiles’ body from that.

“I’m still pretty tight, though. It’s been a while since my last. Can we—,” he rolls out from underneath Derek and lays himself flat on the bed, belly down. “Like this. For now, at least. This position is easiest for me.”

“Yeah,” Derek tries his best to hold his voice steady. “That’s good.”

He blankets Stiles’ body with his own, slotting himself overtop of him and lining them up. He mouths along his neck, first, riding his cock along the cleft of Stiles’ ass. Stiles moans at that, pressing himself back against Derek and sprawling his legs as wide as he can.

“Please,” he begs, and Derek can’t help but oblige.

“Do you want me to get a condom?” They both know that werewolves can’t carry STDs, but this is Stiles’ safety that he’s putting in Derek’s hands, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make sure every level of consent is met.

“No. I want to feel you.” He reached forward and grabs one of Derek’s hands, lacing their fingers together.

The slide in is better than anything Derek has ever felt. Stiles is so warm and tight and  _perfect_. “You’re so good. Being so good for me,” he tells him.

He mouths possessively at the base of Stiles’ neck in time with his thrusts. His wolf is brimming at the surface, so possessive and  _proud_. Proud of Stiles for being brave enough to give Derek this part of himself.

It’s over faster than either of them would like to admit. Derek rides Stiles gracelessly, thrusting into him desperately. When Stiles comes, the tightness around him is enough to set him off. He wraps himself around him and fastens his teeth to his neck, letting himself go and just coming and coming in Stiles’ ass until he feels like he has nothing left to give.

“Get off me. Can’t breath,” Stiles jabs him with his elbow a few moments later, because he’s still Stiles.

Twenty minutes later, once they’ve both recovered enough to function, Derek flips him over and eats him out until Stiles comes again, this time from just his tongue. 

***

Derek is relieved. So, so relieved.

He keeps expecting them to talk about it, for Stiles to ask him to reciprocate, but it doesn’t come. Another month passes and then six more, and Derek starts to let his guard down.

He meets the Sheriff as Stiles’ boyfriend for the first time and it doesn’t go as terribly as he had feared. Eventually, Derek starts going over for family dinner once or twice a week.

They go on a vacation together to lounge in the sun and do nothing. They bicker the whole way, and Derek blows Stiles in the plane bathroom, and they accidentally get upgraded to a hotel room double the size of what they had paid for. Stiles builds sandcastles on the beach and drinks an insurmountable number of Piña Coladas. They sneak out to the beach one night when it’s quiet and empty and they fuck on an abandoned beach towel, grains of sand getting stuck everywhere. “Sex on the beach,” Stiles grins dopily afterwards.

Stiles starts leaving more clothing at Derek’s loft until he has an entire section. Sweatpants and dress pants and plaid everything and pajamas.

“We’re getting old and domestic,” Stiles says one night while they’re reading in bed together, ten months in.

“You’re 22 years old,” Derek grunts.

“Domestic, then.”

So it goes well. Derek feels a happiness that he never thought he’d be able to feel again, and Stiles takes what Derek gives him and doesn’t ask for more.

And Derek is relieved.

***

That doesn’t stop him from experimenting with things, though, on those occasional nights when Stiles isn’t staying over and Derek is feeling brave.

It doesn’t stop him from drawing himself a warm bath, soaking in it until the water cools down and then emptying half the tub to refill it with more warm water. From trailing his hand down past his balls to feel himself tense up immediately, tight and unyielding. From trying again once he’s dried off and in bed, his fingers coated in lube, forcing himself to take deep, steady breaths. 

He eventually works a finger in, but it feels wrong. It feels awkward and uncomfortable, not like Stiles makes it out to be when he’s writhing on Derek’s cock, blissed out. 

The next time he tries, he gets two fingers in, and then three. He still doesn’t like it, but it feels less awkward than before.

They’ve been together for almost a full year when he works up the nerve to bring it up.

“Does it upset you that we never... switch things up?” he asks.

Stiles quirks an eyebrow at that, confusion written on his face. “What do you—Oh. Ohhh. No, I like bottoming. I get that it’s not for everyone. If you want to try it, that’s cool with me, but I’ve always gotten the impression that you weren’t into it.”

“I don’t want to try it. But I would do it for you, if that’s what you wanted.”

Stiles grins at that, snuggling himself in closer. “And that’s why I love you, Sourwolf.”

Derek still grimaces at the nickname.

***

Kate used to chastise him, tell him that he was an immature little boy and he wasn’t worth her time. She pressured him into doing whatever she wanted. Maybe that’s where his issues are rooted, why he’s so terrified to fully give himself to Stiles.

Maybe it’s because his wolf still feels like he was an inadequate Alpha, and he has to make that up somehow. To be Stiles’ protector. To be big and strong. 

That can’t be true, though, because Stiles is the strongest person he knows. Stiles is bright and beautiful and fierce and  _perfect_. When they fuck, Derek doesn’t feel like he’s in charge.

He finds himself two fingers deep in his ass a few weeks after their discussion, and he’s not sure why. Maybe he just wants to prove this to himself. It’s supposed to feel good. Derek is sure that if he can find this  _spot_  that everyone is raving about, his curiosity will be settled.

He does find it, eventually, and the resulting orgasm is confusing.

He finds it a few more times, first with his fingers and later with the small vibrator Stiles has stored in Derek’s sock drawer. It feels like an entirely different sexual experience. Derek’s not sure how he feels about it.

When they have sex, now, Derek can’t help but look at Stiles fucking himself on Derek’s cock like his life depends on it and imagining how it feels for him.

***

It’s about the emotional connection, he supposes. It’s about trusting Stiles completely. Trusting him not to hurt him, not to make fun of him if he chickens out or overreacts. Stiles isn’t pressuring him at all, doesn’t expect it to ever happen, and that’s what makes Derek want to give it to him.

“Hey, remember that time you tried to convince me to cut off your arm?” Stiles asks him while they’re cleaning up after a Stilinski family dinner, his dad retired to his room for the night.

“Remember the time you got me arrested?” He counters.

“Yeah,” Stiles smiles fondly.

They head back to Derek’s for the night, because Stiles is staying there more often than not lately.

Derek is going to ask him, he thinks. Not tonight—but soon. Tomorrow, maybe. Or next weekend.

***

It happens on a Saturday. Derek wakes up before Stiles, as per usual. He’s been building everything up in his head all week long. He’s jittery and nervous, so he throws on a pair of running shoes and goes for a long jog through the forest. When he gets back, Stiles is on the couch in a pair of Derek’s old sweatpants, cradling a bowl of cereal and watching Spongebob. 

“Hey, you,” he smiles, hair sticking in a million directions. “Come watch with me.”

Derek keeps Lucky Charms stocked just for him. Stiles doesn’t allow any junk food at his house because of his dad, so he keeps a secret stash at the loft. He picks out all of the marshmallows and leaves the boring part, and Derek eats it anyways just so they can move onto the next box and Stiles can get more marshmallows. Scott says that he’s whipped. Derek supposes it’s true.

“I need to shower first.”

He fingers himself open in the shower, just like Stiles had that first time. It ends up taking forever, because he’s so nervous that his body won’t relax.

“What took you so long?” Stiles asks when he comes back into the main room, a towel around his waist and his hair still a little wet. “I was afraid I was going to have to call my dad to organize a search and rescue.”

His demeanor changes when he takes in Derek’s lack of clothing. “Nevermind. Come here and sex me. Sex me right now.”

“Yeah, okay.”

They make out lazily on the couch for a bit. Stiles’ mouth tastes like toothpaste and Lucky Charms.

“What do you want to do?” He asks Derek while they’re taking a break so that Derek can suck hickeys into his collarbone. “Want me to suck you off? Or we can fuck, I just need to shower quickly first. Damn it, I totally should have just come in with you.”

“I want to try something new,” Derek tells him. Tries to ignore the wave of deja vu washing over him.

“Yeah, sure. What are you in the mood for?”

“I want you to fuck me. I want to let you fuck me.”

Stiles’ expression is unreadable for a moment. He just stares at him with his big brown eyes.

“I told you I’m okay if you don’t want to. I just want to make sure you know that. Don’t feel like this is something you have to do.”

“I know,” Derek says. “I want to.”

“Okay. Okay, cool.”

Stiles is gentle like Derek has never seen him before. He’s all tender kisses instead of hungry bites, soft touches instead of nails scrabbling against skin.

They move things to the bedroom so that Stiles can spread him out on the bed, ass up. He kisses down Derek’s spine, down past the swell of his ass. “This okay?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

His finger trails over his hole, and then presses in tentatively. “Fuck, Der. You’re so tight.”

“I’m trying to relax.”

“You’re doing good. So, so good.” He grabs one of Derek’s hands from where it’s clenched in the sheets and presses a light kiss to it.

It takes a while, but Derek finally opens up to let one finger in comfortably, and then two. Stiles continues to sing him praise. Derek pretends that he’s indifferent to it, but really he’s lapping it up, proud of himself for being able to give this to Stiles.

When Stiles slips a third in, it’s a tighter fit, but Derek adjusts more quickly than the first two. “I’m good. Ready for you to fuck me now." 

The waves of arousal coming off of Stiles are turning Derek on more than anything else. Stiles crowds in behind him, the head of his cock pressing purposefully against the rim of Derek’s hole. “Let me know if it’s too much, okay? I will stop if you need me to stop. At any point in time.”

“Fuck me,” Derek growls.

“Yes sir. Your wish is my command.”

 Stiles pushes in, and it’s awkward and foreign but it’s also  _Stiles_. The first few thrusts are uncomfortable, but then he finds Derek’s prostate and everything changes.

“You’re amazing. So fucking tight. I’m not gonna last long, oh fuck.”

The vibrator felt good, but it was just a piece of plastic. This is Stiles’ body pressed against his, his thighs slapping against Derek’s with every thrust and warm breath ghosting over his skin.

And it’s with that thought that he feels his orgasm build. Before he can even process it he’s coming, surprising both himself and Stiles. Stiles is quick to follow, spilling himself over Derek’s back and then collapsing beside him with a dramatic sigh. “That was perfect. Your ass is a gift from God. Seriously.”

Derek rolls over and pulls Stiles against his chest, spooning him in.

Stiles twists around so he can look him in the eyes. “Thank you.” 

 _No,_ Derek thinks.  _Thank you. Thank you for everything. Thank you for fixing me._

He presses a kiss to his forehead.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my tumblr: [Come say hello!](http://rohruh.tumblr.com)


End file.
